


Resolute

by delphically



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adam processing things, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Look I'm gay and I have feelings, M/M, Major characters are mostly just minor mentions????, spoilers?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 07:57:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15408501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delphically/pseuds/delphically
Summary: Grief is a different process for everyone--especially when you don't really know if the person you're grieving is actually dead. Or if you have the right to grieve. (Adam introspective following Shiro's leave for Kerberos.)





	Resolute

**Author's Note:**

> It's been 72 hours and Adam is ruining my life.

Waking up is a challenge.

The first day, he does his best to fall back into an old routine. Shower, breakfast, go to work. His shower takes a little longer, breakfast burns on the stove, work drags on, and on, and _on_ to the point that he's begging for a distraction. He's starting to hate the paperwork, the shift in his responsibility from active duty to his desk -- as if the Garrison wants him to forget.

But how could he?

It's all he thinks about now. The days where they would race along canyon walls, clinging to his hips for dear life as they blazed ahead in the desert heat to find that perfect spot to watch the sunset. The days when they're on the roof of the Garrison, laying back and staring up at the stars and talking about what they would do once they got up there. Vivid memories dancing behind his eyelids as he dreams of better days, and how heavy his heart feels when he wakes. 

Would it be easier if he had just quietly supported Takashi? Let him fly off without him (his co-pilot, his best friend, his fiance) to chase after a dream? When the news broke, would he have felt any different? Anything but empty, knowing he would be swallowed up by guilt that wraps around his body like chains. What ifs haunted him with every step he took, chasing after cadets and forcing a smile.

The first week, he kept hitting snooze. The alarm blaring barely budged him from the bed, now too big and too much. Sheets he hasn't washed since the day he left for Kerberos still smell of him, just faintly, and he wants to bask in that a little longer. The shower turns cold as he loses himself, drowning over and over again as he holds the bottle of shampoo left behind. Methodically talking to himself out loud as he tells himself "socks, underwear, slacks, shirt" to remind himself how to dress, to be presentable for his peers and his students.

People die. Life moves on. Why couldn't he?

_"Adam keep it down and we won't get caught."_

_"You said that last time and we both ended in the principal's office."_

Words haunt him as he rounds a corner, the poster of his dead lover staring back at him. Something they forgot to remove from a time past (and he's surprised that his students hadn't taken it -- something to remember him by), but he can't tear his eyes away. He looks so serious (if only they knew), standing at attention with a warm, welcoming smile. Inviting people to join the Galaxy Garrison, because everyone deserves a chance to see the stars. 

_God if you can hear me now, please bring him back._ He chokes, too late to stop the flood as it breaks past the gates. His body shakes, wracking with loud, long sobs as he couches down to the ground. He brings his hand to his mouth, trying to cover it up, swallow his feelings and pick himself up. How dare he? He wasn't supposed to _die_. 

"You bastard." He manages between sobs. "You were supposed to come home and prove me wrong." 

When he finally falls silent, he's grateful no one saw him break. Yet? He's never felt so alone, so empty, so drained as he stumbles to his feet and approaches the poster. He can't even be mad, pulling it carefully (so carefully, he doesn't want to tear the edges) off the wall and folding it up. Adam does his best to slip it into his pocket, carefully, hands shaking. He takes a few deep breaths, removes his glasses, and tries to dry his face with his sleeves. 

"Velasquez?"

He turns quickly, squinting to try and make our who was talking to him. He swallows thickly, using the ends of his shirt to clean off his glasses.

"Commander Iverson." He stalls, shifting, brain reeling at any sort of answer to give him before--

"Take a break, Velasquez." Iverson's response is oddly calm, more genuine then he's ever heard from him. "You should take your bereavement. I'll cover your classes."

It hits him harder then it should, the shock settling in his gut, but he nods. He nods, thanking him as he starts back towards his room. He tucks the poster into his bedside table, exhaustion sinking in as he drifts off to sleep.

Month five -- things start to change. Like sirens going off in his head, anger bubbling up for the first time since it was announced. _Pilot error._ The nerve! They had landed safely on Kerberos when he checked the file (four grueling months of waiting for word, constantly checking the mission logs for an update) and were starting their mission. How could it be a pilot error if he wasn't flying? He started living in his office, pulling up every file he could think of, to petition Iverson to grant him access to the mission logs -- to the truth.

It all came grinding to a halt, rushing around the corner to the sounds of shouting. He draws in a sharp breath as Commander Montgomery stumbles back, holding his cheek as Keith (Takashi's prodigy, the troubled kid from foster care he begged to give a second chance to) clenched his fists tighter.

"Come on! Tell me the truth. What happened up there?" He spits out, fury in his eyes. "You know what happened-- why won't you tell us the truth?!"

"There's nothing to tell." He says sternly, standing up to stare him down. "Try that again and I'll make sure it's the last mistake you make."

How many others had Keith made? Adam stares in horror, wondering if he left Keith behind too.

"Fuck you!" Keith snaps, moving to swing again.

Thankfully, for once in his life, Adam is quicker, wrapping his arms around Keith from behind, yanking him back before another blow could land. He struggles against him, arms flailing as he practically hisses in anger.

"Let me go!"

"Keith calm down." He begged, trying to hold him back as he kicked his feet forward. "Please. Breathe."

"But they're lying! Adam they're trying to cover it up." He screams, snarling as he tries to take another swing at Commander Montgomery.

Before he could assure him he was trying, Iverson's voice cut through the air.

"Enough! Kogane! My office. _Now._ Velasquez, take Montgomery to the infirmary." 

"But--"

" _Now_. Don't make me repeat myself."

He cautiously releases Keith, who yanks his arms back. His eyes blazed with righteous fury, glowering at Montgomery before storming off to deal with his punishment. 

Oh, how he wished he fought more.

Keith's expulsion from the Garrison spread like a wildfire. Rumors about how he was caught fighting (again) and it was his last strike because Shirogane couldn't play favorites anymore. It infuriated him, knowing that they harbored ill will, knowing how vile people can be with the dead when they can't defend themselves anymore. Despite his attempts to reach out, Keith would refuse his help, refuse his time, refuse his energy because somewhere, deep down he blamed him for Takashi going to space. 

He's lost too much, he realizes, so maybe he could give him the answers he so desperately wants.

Closure. He's finally starting to accept the loss but it's all in a haze. He struggles to find his pace again, rushed into locking down the perimeter (Katie Holt had broken in again, looking for the same answers they all longed for), rushed into pretending this was all just a nightmare.

It's been a year now, after the initial reports. Nothing has changed, and the Garrison moves forward as if grief never slowed them down. He reflects less often on where he went wrong, and more on what he can do to make it right. Maybe it's denial, missing the lost sound of his laughter when it used to echo in their bedroom late at night, but deep down he just had this _feeling_ Takashi was alive. He could never explain it, but he wanted to grasp tightly onto the sliver of hope that something was pointing to him coming home.

Three months ago, Katie Holt had walked into the Garrison with her head held high, ready to take any test to become part of the pilot's program. When he asked for her name, she lowered her face a bit, coughed, and said "Pidge Gunderson." Pidge, as she called herself, was a proficient student. She excelled in the technological field that he couldn't begin to fathom why they would have turned her down to begin with (though, it might have to do with her being restricted from Garrison grounds). He understood half of what she said when she talked about how something worked, but he encouraged her to keep pushing forward. She scored high on engineering tests and would be partnered with Lance Alvarez and Tsuyoshi "Hunk" Maivia. 

He looked the other way when Pidge was in Iverson's office, trying to go through his computer. Looked the other way when she would sneak off in the dead of night to go to the roof and listen. He desperately wanted to reach out and tell her he understands what she must be going through but to out her would likely be more dangerous.

So he lets her do what she needs to in order to move forward. He's still learning how to do the same.

The lockdown alarms shake him out of his slumber, and he bolts from his bed in a blur. It's not his shining moment as he trips over his shoes while he clambers to find his glasses, only to be face to face with Takashi's poster hanging behind the light. After all the nights of avoiding it, keeping the poster tucked away, why did he decide to hang it that night? 

_It doesn't matter_ , he thinks as he rushes into the halls to herd students back into their dorms. It doesn't matter because he has a job to do, and it's finally worth doing. Adam ends up at the entrance of the Garrison, looking for answers when explosions in the distance have him practically leaping out of his skin.

"Are we under attack?" He blurts out, wide-eyed. 

"That's classified. Please, go back inside."

"It's _what_?" He whips his head around, staring at the young officer who is now frozen with shock at being talked back to.

"Explain. _Now_."

"Sir, I think it's--"

"Now, Lieutenant! Tell me exactly what is going on."


End file.
